Not Forgotten
by Emily in Neverland
Summary: A little one shot I wrote about Peter's memories. Takes place before Peter meets Wendy.


It was a rare moment in the underground hideaway of Peter Pan and his merry band of lost boys. A rare quiet moment. The boys were out probably raising hell for Hook and his pirates or busy catching and stringing up some redskins. Only Peter was still in the dimly lit but cozy little space that smelled of that sweet nostalgic wood smoke. He had specifically ordered the boys and even his faerie Tinker bell to leave the home for a long while.

Normally Peter hated being alone and detested being without his faerie, but there were times Peter wanted to be alone. He had waited a long while. Until he knew all were gone and he was alone. Then he pulled a little wooden box from a very well hidden place. He sat on the middle of the bed holding it preciously.

Peter had a busy mind. Always things bouncing about in there, the names of his crew, where the very best hiding places on the island were, who were enemies and who were friends. When was the best time to collect Blue Jay down, when the cold months on the mainland were and how to bundle properly for them. So much, bouncing around, so when something came along that Peter wanted to keep forever he took it from his mind and hid it, here in the pine box.

His memories. Sometimes they were only partial memories, things he swore he'd never completely forget but did. Peter opened the box and his memories glowed at him warmly, as if asking him why he'd left them in the dark of the box for so long. He couldn't remember who, if anyone, had taught him to open his mind. He saw mother's at night, open up their children's minds and reorganize, he'd even seen mothers take things from their children's minds. How he learned to do it to himself he was unsure. But he could. And did.

Peter picked up a memory fragment; it was like a crystal or a mirror shard. It showed a lovely woman rocking a bundle back and forth, when he put it next to his ear he could quietly hear; _so close your eyes… On Hushabye Mountain…_

He placed it gingerly on the bed, then picked up one of a man kneeling by a bed with an excited but supposed to be scary look, when Peter put it to his ear, he could hear fragments of a story about the most beautiful woman of the world, her forced marriage to a prince and her pirate true love returning from the dead to save her.

Still in the box were a handful of well-loved paperbacks. The ability to read had long escaped Peter, and though he would pretend it wasn't missed, he found it a tragedy that he could not even remember what the books were about. All he had to go by was the cover pictures, one of a little girl with her back turned talking to a grinning cat in a tree. A second book was of pirates and a young boy, with the boy holding a shovel and all were on a sunny lovely beach, the third had a girl in a blue dress with a black dog at her heels, a scarecrow, a tinman and a lion all walking on a yellow road toward a green city.

Putting them down he picked up a very well cherished memory of a nanny he'd had before Neverland. The nanny was the very one who showed him the magical world, who told him of Neverland and where it was. She even had introduced him to his first faerie, a yellow faerie by the name of Lemon Ginger. His nanny had been practically perfect in every way. She even measured properly, that was one of the memories, of when his nanny, a lady by the name of Mary, measured him. He'd measured mischievous, trouble-seeking and difficult.

She was the one who told him every day that he'd soon forget how to speak to the birds and someday would no longer see faeries. But when he didn't she would tell him how extraordinary he was, then taught him to fly and to imitate any sound he heard.

There were many other miscellaneous memories in the box, one of a little boy exactly like Peter but preferred to wield a bow and give the money they pillaged from the royals to the poor. There was a girl covered in dirt but beautiful regardless and kind beyond all reason, though her sisters were ugly and mean. Peter's parting gift to her was a pair of diamond clear heels he'd 'found'.

There were countless others, there would always be more. No Lost Boy had ever made their way into the box, no matter how close they were to him. No faerie ever got in. Not even his first, he remembered Lemon Ginger because the memory of his nanny. No matter how many girls or women were in Peter's life, few got into his box, few were ever remembered. When a memory came that Peter never wanted to forget, he could slip it silently with practiced precision into the box, to be safe, without anyone noticing. Sometimes, he'd organize all his memories, then other times he'd dump them all out and when finished he'd cram them back in without a thought to order. No one else knew of the box or Peter's memories, they weren't for anyone else but him. Just him.

Peter had faults like anyone else, but one of the biggest things that he knew he shouldn't do, was that when the boys slept, he'd sometimes open their minds and see what they were thinking about. Sometimes taking things from them. Some of the boys would think constantly on their mothers, their fathers, their brothers or sisters. Peter would take these constant thoughts from their minds and toss them into the sea. They'd never be found. Other boys would simply forget.

Peter put away the memories, knowing Tinker bell would be coming to check on him soon. He never thought anything about Neverland would change, because he wouldn't change. Then, came the Darling children. Specifically, Wendy.


End file.
